


The Sixth Stage

by DuWinter



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 18:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21184187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuWinter/pseuds/DuWinter
Summary: Miranda accidentally overhears something she wasn't meant to on the telephone.





	The Sixth Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: Set many years after the events depicted in the movie.
> 
> Disclaimer:The novel The Devil Wears Prada (2003) was written by Lauren Weisberger and published by Broadway Books. The Film, made in 2006, was directed by David Frankel and produced by Wendy Finerman and Keren Rosenfelt. Ms. Weisberger's novel was adapted for the screen by Aline Brosh MeKenna. It starred our two favorite ladies, Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway. The Devil Wears Prada and it's characters do not belong to me. No profit being made here. I'm just playing with them for a short while and I promise to put them away neatly when I'm through.
> 
> Credit where credit is due: Special thanks to both of my wonderful Beta's jazwriter and mxrolkr. You two ROCK really hard. The last paragraph of this story had me stumped. mxrolkr played lifeguard and jumped in to rescue me. The fine ending of this tale is her doing and not mine.
> 
> Author's Note: This story was originally posted to my Live Journal page (DuWinter's Muse) on November 30th, 2010.
> 
> Comments: Comments feed the muse and the Muse is always hungry. Remember, a fat muse is a happy and productive muse. Comments and constructive criticism eagerly encouraged.

###  _Prologue___  
  
There are five recognized stages of grief in the Kulber-Ross model. The model functions as a way to delineate the process of how individuals deal with loss. The time frame required for an individual to go through the five stages depends entirely on the internal reserves of the individual in question.  
  
_Stage One: – Denial__ – The "No, not me" stage._  
  
This stage is filled with disbelief and denial. If your partner has died, you still expect him to walk through the door. If your partner has asked for a break-up, you think that she will change her mind.  
  
Miranda Priestly wasn't able to specify the exact moment that the sinking feeling creeping around her insides had started, but it had been months ago. Something was going on with Andrea. It was little things at first, things like during the last Fashion Week in Paris the previous October, Andrea had not stayed at Miranda's side for the shows but had chosen to spend her days out and about the city. More recently Andrea would answer a call on her cell phone and then make an excuse to leave the room to take the call. She had, over the course of the last month or so, become secretive and withdrawn. A few days ago Miranda found a Fedex overnight envelope with a return address in Paris in the trash, and Andrea's explanation of its contents had not rung true. Miranda explained this growing unease within herself as due to the changes that were occurring in her life.  
  
She and Andrea have been married for fifteen wonderful years. Miranda would be sixty-five on her coming birthday in early November, and Andrea a young forty the following January. On top of that, Miranda was staring at forced retirement from _Runway_. After years of plotting and conniving, Irv had finally gotten his way. Five years ago the board of directors had passed a directive he had recommended that mandated all senior staff must retire at age sixty-five. Her official duties would end less than a month after her return from this year's Fashion Week. The January issue of _Runway_ would be the last with her hand on the tiller of a magazine that she had raised up from ruin and made the industry powerhouse. She would be a month into retirement by the time it hit the newsstands. Irv, had, however, outmaneuvered himself, and his satisfaction would be short-lived. He would have a little less than one year as CEO of Elias-Clarke without Miranda as Editor-in Chief of _Runway_ before he was forced to retire. With all these other things going on in her life, Miranda went about her daily routines, doing her best to ignore the fear she felt growing inside her that she and her beloved Andrea were drifting apart.  
  
_Stage Two: Anger/Resentment__ – The "Why me?" stage._  
  
Anger at the situation, your partner, and others are common. You are angry with the other person for causing the situation and for causing you pain. You might feel anger at your deceased partner for dying. You may feel anger toward your partner for breaking up the family by asking for a divorce.  
  
Miranda looked down at the telephone receiver in her shaking hand as if it had bitten her. She had been running late this morning. Getting older had cost her half a step, and some mornings she just couldn't do the things she used to. She had been due at the _Runway_ office for a meeting fifteen minutes before the house land-line rang. Normally when on her way out the door she wouldn't have bothered to slow down to answer it, but this time she did for some reason. She silently picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. What Miranda heard chilled her blood.  
  
Her wife's, her Andrea's voice, spoke softly, secretively to a woman with a heavy Parisian accent. They were discussing plans about meeting in Paris this coming weekend. Miranda knew that Andrea was due to travel this weekend. Travel for one of _The Mirror's_ – now New York City's premier newspaper—most well-known, respected, and influential reporters was commonplace, but Miranda was confused. Paris was not the destination where Andrea had told her she needed to travel. Coming back to the conversation she was eavesdropping on, she heard Andrea call the other woman by name. Opaline, a sweet voice with a seductive and lilting quality. Miranda could just picture her: twenty-something, young, vital, beautiful, cutting-edge. Attracted to Andrea's experience and power. As the two discussed how beautiful the master bedroom of where they would meet was and how perfect it was, anger blossomed in Miranda's chest. The conclusion was obvious. Andrea had found another lover. A young, beautiful lover with whom Andrea would spend the weekend in bed.  
  
Miranda silently placed the telephone receiver into the cradle and hurried down the stairs and out the front door. Rage coiled and roiled in her chest. No one saw the icon cry. No one except Andrea and perhaps her daughters. At this moment that wasn't an option. Andrea was no longer hers, and her daughters, now twenty-six, both had busy lives. She garnered the last vestiges of self-control and snapped at her driver Raymond to close the privacy screen. Raymond had been with Miranda for more than five years, ever since Roy retired, so he didn't hesitate or question. Within seconds Miranda was ensconced in the privacy of the back of her town-car. All sorts of half-formed plans flashed across her mind as she fought the urge to scream her rage to the world. Miranda's reach in Paris was considerable, and her pride demanded retribution. She would find and destroy this upstart, this Opaline, who dared to poach what Miranda Priestly had claimed. She closed her eyes. And Andrea, she who had promised heart and soul at their wedding years ago. She who had said she'd stay with Miranda no matter what. Promised that she'd be faithful after all three of Miranda's husbands had betrayed her with other women. She must find a suitable revenge to visit upon her Andrea.  
  
  
_Stage Three: Bargaining__ – The "I’ll do this so you'll do that" stage._  
  
You try to negotiate to change the situation. If you've lost a spouse to death, you might bargain with God, "I'll be a better person if you'll just bring him back.” You might approach your partner who is asking for the break-up and say, "If you'll stay, I'll change."  
  
Traffic was heavy on the way to the Elias-Clarke building, and Miranda had time for some of the fire in her belly to burn down. She knew she could never revenge herself on Andrea, no matter how badly Andrea hurt her. Her love for Andrea was unconditional. They had stood together in front of friends and family and promised each other the rest of their lives. Miranda knew that she and her wife didn't spend as much time as they once had making love. Work demands on her time and body since she had turned sixty had taken their toll on their love life. Miranda was just too worn many evenings, and Andrea had compromised by just holding her as she slept. Miranda knew that at forty Andrea was just reaching her sexual peak. Her appetite was at its zenith, and Miranda wasn't keeping her woman satisfied, causing her to go elsewhere to get her itch scratched. As she strode into the Elias-Clarke building and rode the elevator to her office, she prayed frantically to a god she'd long ago lost faith in, Just bring her back to me. I can change. I can do better. I can be whatever she needs and wants me to be. Please, please don't take her away from me. I can't live without her.  
  
_Stage Four: Depression__\- The "It's really happened" stage._  
  
You realize the situation isn't going to change. The death or break-up has happened, and there is nothing to bring the other person back. Acknowledgment of the situation often brings depression. This could be a quiet, withdrawn time as you soak in the situation.  
  
For a few unsatisfying moments Miranda vented her rage and hurt on her employees. Within seconds of the elevator doors opening on Runway's floor, anyone in her path was running for cover. She had both of her assistants in tears by the time she had removed her coat, dropped her bag, and walked into the inner office, slamming the door behind her. In the privacy of her office she let the tears flow freely as she feared her heart would break asunder. She tried to control her breathing while sobs racked her body. She told herself that she had known from the beginning of their relationship that this day would come. She was twenty-five years Andrea's senior. Andrea had sacrificed her youth while being chained to a foolish old woman. Now Andrea had found a young woman with a desirable body, not the body of a woman so many years older than her but one in the bloom of youth. One whose fingers, lips, and tongue would worship Andrea's body as Andrea's had worshiped hers. Miranda hit the intercom to her first assistant's desk. “No calls. Cancel everything. Reschedule for whenever is convenient for me.” She snapped. She didn't wait for a response. If they knew what was good for them, they'd make it happen. Sinking into her chair behind the desk from where she had ruled the fashion world for the past thirty plus years, she let all the sorrow of her profound loss flow through her being. Lost in her misery she remained at her desk, head bowed, while time lost all meaning. Looking up she realized from the clock on her desk that the day had fled, and it was time to go home. Home to face her wife and to deal with the situation.  
  
_Stage Five: Acceptance__ – The "This is what happened" stage._  
  
Though you haven't forgotten what has happened, you are able to begin to move forward.  
  
On the ride home Miranda came to a decision. She loved Andrea. And if she truly loved her, she must be willing to let her go. Andrea deserved a life with a woman she wanted. A woman closer to her own age. A woman with whom she could grow old. Miranda was in the winter of her life, while Andrea was still in the mid-summer of hers.  
  
As she arrived at their townhouse she girded herself for the difficult task ahead. She entered the residence with head up, as if a condemned but proud prisoner on her way to the gallows. From the kitchen she heard music playing. Entering the room she found Andrea in an apron making dinner. Her heart nearly broke all over again at the sight. From a starting point where she couldn't boil water without burning it, Andrea had, over their years together, become a rather fine cook under Miranda's tutelage. Andrea turned and smiled at her, and for a moment Miranda allowed herself to get lost in those beautiful brown eyes. _You can keep her in your life for a while! This doesn't have to happen today! Just pretend you don't know anything,_ her mind screamed at her.  
  
“You're early,” Andrea said moving to the island and withdrawing a bottle of wine from an ice bucket. She poured a glass of red wine into a fine crystal wineglass and handed it to Miranda.  
  
Miranda looked at the woman she loved, tears welling in her eyes. “I...” she started, “I heard you on the telephone this morning. I know about you and Opaline...”  
  
Andrea's eyes moved furtively about the room. “What did you hear?” she asked, moving to pour herself a glass of wine.  
  
Miranda, a veteran of many fights with Andrea over the years, could see the nervousness in her wife's body language and knew her wife liked to busy herself during a confrontation in order to hide her discomfort. There were secrets here. Secrets that Andrea didn't want uncovered. Miranda allowed a single tear to run down her cheek. “I know enough, Andrea.” she replied. “I know that if I love you I have to let you go. I'm an old woman. A useless old woman. In a few months my position at _Runway_ will be over. I'll be another retired nobody that once in a while someone will recognize.” Miranda felt the words choking her as she spoke them. “I'd like to meet her...meet your lover. I'd like to see that she is worthy of you. Worthy of the gift she is being given...”  
  
_Stage Six: Revelation__ -The “Ahhh, it all becomes clear” stage._  
  
In which you discover that the light at the end of the tunnel just might not be an oncoming freight train.  
  
“Lover?” Andrea responded, evidently shocked by the idea. “Miranda, could you please start over again because you're not making any sense,” she asked.  
  
“Oh please, Andrea,” Miranda answered, withdrawing behind her professional facade. “Let’s be adults about this. You've tired of me as your partner and found someone younger and more desirable. It's happened to me before, you know. I've survived it in the past, and I'll survive it this time. We'll need to get lawyers to arbitrate a divorce settlement, of course. There is a good deal of joint property to consider.”  
  
“Divorce!” Andrea replied, her body language showing signs of panic. “Miranda, are you divorcing me?” she asked her voice cracking.  
  
“Isn't that what you want?” Miranda questioned. “Don't you want to run off to Paris to be with your lover, Opaline?”  
  
“Opaline?” Andrea exclaimed, tears beginning to run down her face openly. “Miranda, Opaline isn't my lover. You are. There's nobody but you. There hasn't been anybody but you since I worked for you. Since before you ever knew how I felt about you! I can't imagine life without you! Oh god! Please don't leave me!”  
  
Miranda was taken aback. She'd been through this discussion three times before where she had confronted her husbands about their philandering ways. Never had they so vehemently told her that she was the only one in their life. “I heard you on the telephone, Andrea,” she said, confused. “You talked about how perfect the master bedroom is in the house that you'll meet in this weekend...”  
  
Andrea grabbed Miranda's hand. “God, please, Miranda, just come with me to my study on the second floor! I can explain everything! Please, please, there has been a terrible misunderstanding! Just don't leave me and give me a few minutes to explain!” she cried.  
  
Miranda allowed herself to be lead up the stairs to what had once been one of her daughter's bedrooms and now served as Andrea's office and study. Inside Andrea took out a folder that was concealed between two large volumes of art prints on her bookshelf. She placed the folder on the desk and motioned Miranda to sit in the chair. When Miranda was seated, Andrea opened the file and laid out a number of photographs and sheets of printed information with notes scrawled in Andrea's cramped and hurried handwriting lining the margins.“Miranda,” she said breathlessly, “in November you'll retire. I've made arrangements with _The Mirror_ to take over the European desk of the paper as of the first of next year. My offices will be in Paris. Opaline isn't my lover, she's a real estate agent in Paris. I've been house hunting for us in the villages within commuting distance to the city since we were there last fashion week. The bedroom _is_ perfect, Miranda. It has lots of tall windows and a beautiful view of the wonderful country garden that surrounds the house. The house is just a little way outside the village of Crécy la Chapelle, which is about an hour from Paris by train. I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to take you to live close to the city you love best in the world. A home where we could spend the rest of our lives together. I'll work, and you can pursue the hobbies you've talked about all these years. Painting and writing poetry, designing and gardening. And when I'm not working Miranda, I'll be at home, loving you and only you. Please don't leave me, Miranda. You're my whole life. The only thing that matters in my life.”  
  
Miranda looked at the pictures of a charming country house just big enough for two. The kitchen and bath would need considerable work, but the bedroom was perfect as promised. There was a solar where she could pursue painting and a room Andrea could use as an office so she could work from home when she was able to. There was even a large loft where guests could be accommodated when Cassidy or Caroline and their significant others came to visit. And Paris, the most fascinating city in the world as far as Miranda was concerned, would only be a short hour away by train. She closed her eyes and imagined the rest of her life there in that picturesque setting with her Andrea by her side. A smile came to her lips. “I've been such a fool today, Andrea.” she whispered. “You've said again and again that I should talk to you before I jump to conclusions.”  
  
Andrea hugged her from behind. “Just don't ever mention divorce again, and I'll forgive you this time,” Andrea whispered in return, kissing Miranda's neck.  
  
Miranda nodded. Rising from the chair she offered Andrea her hand. One conclusion she had reached this afternoon still bore addressing. “I'm not feeling as tired as I have been recently,” she said softly. “Shall we see about a hot bath together and an early bed?”  
  
Andrea took Miranda's hand, her eyes glowing with happiness. “I'd like that, Miranda,” she answered softy. And together, hand in hand, they left the study.  
  
Dealing with loss was something Miranda had spent the majority of her life doing. While holding her love later that night in her arms as her Andrea slept peacefully, she thought back to the emotions she had allowed to culminate based on jumping to an unfounded conclusion. She had let herself forget the one thing that held Andrea closer to her heart than any other in her life. Andrea loved her. Unconditionally. Their life together had not been without its ups and downs, but always they had survived whatever life had thrown at them. Their future held many more wonderful and not-so-wonderful moments to share together, but Miranda knew she would never need to grieve again for the loss Andrea’s love. After all was said and done, their true love would outlive them both.  
  
Miranda pulled the love of her life closer to her and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of their future.  
  
_fini_  
  



End file.
